


just wanna be yours

by asael



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-battle Adrenaline Fueled Sex, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22487851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael
Summary: After a battle, Dimitri needs to work off his adrenaline - and though Claude should really know better, he can't stop wanting things he shouldn't.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 33
Kudos: 772





	just wanna be yours

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for [Raimy](https://twitter.com/cIaudebert), who not only won my 100 follower giveaway but is also constantly blessing all of us with incredible art. This is VERY LATE and I am very sorry about that, but I really hope you like it anyway!!! It was a whole lot of fun to write. If anyone needs their brain turned off, it's definitely Claude. He deserves it. He has earned it. Please mind the tags!

It is entirely chance and bad luck that brings the Imperial troops to them. It isn’t the first time Dimitri has gone off on his own - Claude sees how difficult it is for him to stay with the army sometimes, to force himself to be around people after so long alone. The first time Dimitri went off on his own, Claude thought he had left entirely, thought that Dimitri had fled. It would not be such a terrible surprise, when it had taken so much effort to convince Dimitri to fight with Claude’s army after Gronder Field.

But Claude found him then, and Dimitri returned to the army, just as he has every time since. They haven’t talked about it - Dimitri isn’t much for talking, normally. He’s only beginning to come back to himself, often still tangled in thoughts of blood and vengeance. He is not interested in sitting down with Claude to chat about why he needs to get away sometimes, why he distances himself from his allies.

Claude lets him, now that he knows that Dimitri isn’t truly leaving. He lets Dimitri have his space and his time, and the silent compromise that they’ve come to is that said _space and time_ don’t count when it’s Claude. When he sees Dimitri leave, he follows. They don’t talk. They barely interact. Claude is only there to make sure that Dimitri doesn’t come to any misfortune - because, after all, they are in the middle of a war.

He never has before. This time is different.

It is only a troop of scouts that finds them, thankfully, deep in the woods where Dimitri has wandered. Claude would not bet on their skill against a full battalion, or even against a real troop of warriors. But these have clearly been sent to scout Claude’s army, get an idea of their numbers and movements. There aren’t many of them, and so as to move more quickly they don’t have full armor or more than light weapons.

Even so, they should have won. A whole troop against two men? And Claude has left his wyvern with the army, leaving him landbound and unable to maneuver freely. But Claude has Failnaught, and Dimitri has Areadbhar.

And, more than that, Dimitri has the rage that always burns within him, a fire that can dim from time to time but always flares to life again.

When the dust settles, when it’s all over, it is only the two of them who are still standing.

Claude’s adrenaline is still high, his breathing rushed. He’s nearly out of arrows, which is fine because at the end he’d needed to resort to his axe anyway. Close combat has left him bloodied and bruised - but the blood, in the main, is not his own. He has come away with a few scratches but nothing serious, unlike those who fell at his hand.

Dimitri - Claude has seen him fight before. Claude should have known what to expect, but somehow he didn’t. Somehow it was all the more incredible up close. Claude couldn’t watch him during the fight, not really, but what little he did see made Dimitri seem more like a force of nature than a man. He fought like a berserker, with a pure and focused rage that was almost frightening to see. Claude doesn’t like to compare Dimitri to a beast, he thinks Dimitri does enough of that himself - but it’s true that he did not seem entirely human. It’s good, really, that Claude couldn’t watch him during the fight. He would have been unable to look away.

And now he is breathing hard, covered in blood, Areadbhar in one hand. Claude cannot help noticing that Dimitri’s gaze is on him, his single eye glittering with something that isn’t quite madness.

Claude realizes then that Dimitri could still be caught in his battle-madness. That Claude is now the only living creature here, the clearing littered with bodies and only the two of them left standing. He goes very still.

There’s no way he can beat Dimitri in hand-to-hand combat. On the back of his wyvern, or at a distance with his bow in hand - that would be a contest. But if they come to blows here, Claude would not survive.

“Dimitri,” Claude says, his voice low and level. He does not know how far Dimitri has gone. He does not know if Dimitri knows who he is, where they are, that Claude is not a threat. He only knows that Dimitri is watching him with the stare of a predator and that his lance is still in his hands.

Dimitri cocks his head, just a little, and slowly and deliberately sets Areadbhar aside. Claude watches the movement, knowing it should be comforting but somehow it doesn’t quite feel that way. Dimitri is still looking at him the way a lion might watch its prey. He walks closer, long legs crossing the ground between them with ease.

“Hey, big guy, it’s all over -”

But that’s all Claude gets out. He feels a surge of panic when Dimitri grabs him, gauntleted hands on his shoulders, shoving his back against the hard bark of a tree. He expects violence, he expects madness, he doesn’t have a chance to get away -

Dimitri bends down and kisses him.

It’s not a gentle thing, not remotely. It’s hard and hungry and biting. Dimitri is not asking for permission, not courting Claude - he’s taking what he wants, and when Claude opens his mouth to gasp in surprise, Dimitri’s tongue fills it.

And the worst part - the worst part isn’t that Claude can’t push him away, it’s that he doesn’t want to.

He’s watched Dimitri since Gronder Field. Watched him, talked to him, coaxed him to their side. He knows the depths of Dimitri’s madness, and he knows how close sanity is for him, too. He knows how often Dimitri crosses between those things. He knows the pain Dimitri feels, the guilt, the anger.

He knows that Dimitri has been through terrible things, and instead of feeling pity, Claude admires him for it. He admires Dimitri’s drive for survival, the awful kindness within him that is the true cause of the rage and lust for revenge that he can’t control. He admires Dimitri’s strength and determination, his loyalty and fury.

And, of course, Claude has eyes. Dimitri has changed much from their school years together, where he was the perfect picture of a storybook prince, but in truth Claude finds him even more appealing now. Tall and broad-shouldered, he’s grown into a rougher and more sharp-edged version of himself. Claude knows he’s scarred, anyone can see he’s lost an eye, he’s been through so much - but that only speaks to his strength, his ability to keep fighting despite the forces arrayed against him.

Claude finds it all impossibly attractive.

That’s been true since Gronder, since he convinced Dimitri to join them, since the shock of seeing all those changes in the Prince of Faerghus turned into something else. He would never have done anything about it, of course - Dimitri surely has no interest in that kind of thing. Has little interest in anything beyond his revenge, his anger. Claude even felt a hint of guilt simply appreciating Dimitri’s appearance, the way he moves. He would not have pushed for more, not when Dimitri still talks to ghosts and sometimes cannot tell the difference between reality and his anger-fueled fantasies.

But Dimitri presses him back against that tree and holds him there and kisses him, and it’s all Claude can do to keep from losing his head entirely, from pulling Dimitri in and begging for more.

It’s the adrenaline, he thinks, the remnants of their battle. It’s the way Dimitri fought, overwhelming and terrifying in a way that, yes, turned Claude on. It’s his attraction to Dimitri that he’s tried to ignore, his deeper feelings that he’s buried as well as he can.

Or maybe it’s just that when Dimitri’s mouth covers his, all thoughts seem to fly from Claude’s mind except _yes, yes, please_.

Dimitri pulls back, and Claude thinks he’s coming to his senses, or maybe he just needs air, but it’s neither of those things. Instead, his gauntled hands fumble with Claude’s clothing, with his own armor.

“Dimitri,” Claude says, and he’s breathless, and he doesn’t know what to say after that. “It’s over, the battle - we can go back -”

Dimitri doesn’t pause. He’s unclasped his gauntlets now, dropped them on the forest floor. With his hands uncovered he can more easily unclasp his breastplate, Claude’s own minimal armor. One large hand rests on Claude’s throat, pinning him to the tree, his palm against Claude’s neck.

It should be frightening. It’s not.

“I’ll have you first,” Dimitri says, and he sounds certain but he also sounds like he’s not all there, like there’s part of him still lost in battle-fury, lost in - something. But he leans in and kisses Claude again, hard and demanding, and Claude’s knees feel weak and he can’t seem to find it within himself to push Dimitri away, tell him to stop.

If he did - if he was sure, if he was firm about it - Claude is certain Dimitri would listen. He responds well to calm commands, to people with the certainty he sometimes lacks. It’s why Claude has been able to get through to him, why Claude was able to convince him to join them. If Claude says no, and means it, Dimitri would let him go.

The problem, of course, is that though Claude could say no, there’s almost no chance he would actually mean it.

Dimitri’s hand is gone from his neck, replaced by his mouth. He bites like an animal, digs his teeth in, the shock of it making Claude gasp. His hand presses against the front of Claude’s pants, touching his half-hard cock through the fabric, and Claude can’t keep his hips from bucking against that contact.

Maybe, Claude thinks, Dimitri needs this. Maybe he’s helping. Maybe this will steady him, will help him come back to himself.

He knows it’s just an excuse. He would let Dimitri fuck him without any of those reasons, without any reason at all. He doesn’t seem to have any _nos_ within him.

He wants this.

He wants Dimitri, and he has for a long time, and Dimitri doesn’t know that, he’s just - working out his adrenaline, looking for release, and isn’t it unfair to _Dimitri_ to let this happen? Claude is selfish to want it, selfish to let it happen, but he can’t seem to do anything else.

“Dimitri,” he says, one last-ditch effort to bring himself back to his senses, to make Dimitri realize what he’s doing - because Claude knows he can’t want this, not really. This is battle-lust turned in on itself, being taken out on Claude because he is the one there, because he’s the one who can’t find it in himself to stop this.

“ _Claude_ ,” Dimitri says, and he pulls Claude from where he was pinned against the tree. Claude’s back hits the ground, and luckily there is only grass beneath him, not rocks or the bloodstained ground behind them, the remnants of their battle. Dimitri is above him, covering Claude with his body, and Claude thinks of their armor and weapons, now in messy piles on the ground, thinks of how vulnerable they are.

Then he can’t think of anything else, because Dimitri is kissing him again. Claude moans, and Dimitri presses in further, his weight on Claude enough to pin him down, hold him there.

Though Claude isn’t trying to get away, even if he knows he probably should.

Dimitri shoves one muscled thigh between his knees, spreading his legs, and his hand is on Claude again, coaxing him to hardness through his pants. It doesn’t take much, leaving Claude flushed and gasping. Dimitri’s mouth is on his neck, leaving harsh biting kisses that Claude knows will leave marks.

Then his lips are on Claude’s ear, and he says in a low growl, “I’ve wanted you for too long.”

Claude doesn’t know what to think of that, or if he can think at all. Arousal curls in his stomach and he finds himself reaching out, flailing a bit wildly to catch hold of his quiver, to find the bottle tucked away in a pouch at the side of it. Oil for his bowstring, a special concoction he makes himself, and it’s not _for_ this, but - it’ll work for this.

Goddess, he’s such a fool. He isn’t going to stop this. He never was.

He finds the bottle, gets it into his hand. _Dimitri,_ he starts to say again, wanting to tell him to slow down, that he needs to be ready, but Dimitri kisses him hard and plucks the bottle from his hand in one movement. Claude does not try to stop him.

He feels - concerned, guilty, afraid that he is letting this go too far, afraid that this will all be a terrible mistake, afraid that Dimitri is not making any kind of conscious decisions. But more than anything he feels _desire_ , he _wants_ this, and Dimitri certainly seems to know what he wants, too.

That, and when Dimitri kisses him it feels as if all his thoughts fly from his mind, and all he can think about is Dimitri’s mouth on his.

Now Dimitri pulls back, and his hands are on the hem of Claude’s shirt, pulling it over his head and off. Claude helps, unfastening the ties of his pants so that Dimitri can more easily take those off too, and at some point he lost his boots - for one brief moment Claude realizes again how vulnerable they are, how defenseless, and now he’s naked too.

But Dimitri’s mouth is on his collarbone, biting down, and none of that seems to matter.

Dimitri’s hand goes between his legs. Claude moans, and he sees Dimitri’s lips curl into a pleased grin.

“Already hard for me,” he says, and he may be relentless, but if he can say these things surely that means he knows what he wants. Knows what he’s doing.

Dimitri’s hands are big, and one wraps around Claude’s cock while the other grips his wrists, holding them both in a tight grip, keeping him still. Dimitri is much stronger than him, Claude couldn’t get away even if he tried, and he _isn’t_ trying. He struggles once, just to see, and Dimitri’s hand tightens on his wrists, and Claude’s cock twitches, and Dimitri feels it and he smiles again.

So what if Claude has always found Dimitri’s easy displays of strength unbearably attractive? So what if it turns him on that Dimitri could overpower him so easily, could hold him down and take what he pleased? So what if he’s thought about it before, and now it’s happening, and even if he could stop Dimitri - which he probably could if he really wanted to, this post-battle lust isn’t mindless - he wouldn’t?

Dimitri bends down, stroking Claude with one rough hand, and sucks Claude’s nipple into his mouth, worrying it with tongue and teeth. Claude arches against him and cries out, all his doubts fleeing his mind in the face of this, of Dimitri on him, _wanting_ him. It doesn’t matter where they are, it doesn’t matter how bad an idea this is - all that matters is this. All that matters is Dimitri. 

“I want you on your hands and knees,” Dimitri says. The way he says it, the idea of him thinking about Claude like that, wanting him like that - Claude has to suppress a shiver at the thought of it. Dimitri releases his wrists, moves back, and Claude sees him retrieve the bottle of oil from where he’d set it on the ground.

Claude is at least grateful that they’re on grass, that he has something to cushion his knees, because he doesn’t think Dimitri is thinking about that. In truth, _Claude_ is barely thinking about it, it’s only a faint realization in the back of his mind as he turns over, pushing up onto his hands and knees.

He feels more vulnerable like this, unable to really see what Dimitri is doing, and he knows that should probably bother him. Instead he finds his length growing harder, his body hot with anticipation. Dimitri is going to fuck him, and he’s already thinking about it, thinking about how much he wants it.

Dimitri’s hands spread him open wider, exposing him to the cool air. Then he feels a finger slick with oil pressing into him. He shivers at the intrusion, but it doesn’t hurt, though Dimitri is not being gentle. He’s insistent, working his finger inside Claude and then following it with another, stretching him with eager hands.

It’s embarrassing how much it affects Claude - or it would be embarrassing, except Dimitri’s breath is coming hard too, each touch screaming of barely-contained need. Claude feels it, the urge to open himself for Dimitri, the desire to take whatever Dimitri will give him. 

Dimitri is urgent, pushing another finger into Claude a little too fast. Claude gasps, body tensing, but the truth is he doesn’t mind, the truth is he might even like it. He wants Dimitri in him already, his cock between his legs is heavy and leaking with it.

“Dimitri,” he says, his voice catching, and Dimitri curls his fingers inside Claude, sending a bolt of pure pleasure through him. Whatever else Claude was going to say, it turns into a wail and he pushes back against Dimitri’s fingers without any conscious thought, just needing more, wanting more.

“You want it,” Dimitri says, and it’s not a question. His fingers slide out of Claude, and he covers Claude’s body with his own. Claude can feel the thick hardness of Dimitri’s cock against his thigh, and he’s _big_ , big enough that if Claude had any sense in his head right now he’d ask to take this slow.

He does not seem to have any sense in his head.

“ _Yes,_ ” he says, feeling Dimitri’s hand slide up his thighs, spreading his legs wider, “fuck me, _please_.” He’ll beg more, if that’s what Dimitri wants. He’ll do anything Dimitri wants.

It doesn’t take more. Dimitri’s hands grip his hips, and then he feels the head of Dimitri’s dick pressing against his hole. It’s slick and stretched, but even so Claude knows he isn’t ready. He doesn’t care. He presses back against Dimitri, encouraging him, and then Dimitri begins to press into him.

He goes slow, torturously slow, pushing into Claude inch by inch. Dimitri’s hands on Claude’s hips hold him still, keeping him from moving against Dimitri again, forcing him to take it at Dimitri’s pace. It’s probably better that way, really, because for all that Claude knew Dimitri was big, it’s different when Dimitri is inside him.

It’s been a long time since Claude has been with someone like this, but even if it hadn’t been he’s not sure it would make a difference. Dimitri is bigger than three fingers, probably bigger than four, and he’s pressing into Claude slowly but relentlessly. Claude is breathless as Dimitri fills him, and it’s so _much_ , he doesn’t think he can take it.

“Dimitri,” Claude says, and his voice is rough and gasping. Despite the discomfort, despite the stretch of Dimitri within him, his erection hasn’t flagged at all. All he can do is keep himself steady, brace himself against the ground, he can’t seem to find the words to say _stop, no, I can’t_.

He doesn’t want to.

“You look so good taking my cock like this,” Dimitri says, his voice low, and Claude doesn’t know how he can even talk but he presses further into Claude, the slick, thick slide of his cock past Claude’s rim, and he groans. “So tight.”

And if there was even the slightest thought of stopping this, of saying he couldn’t take anymore, it’s gone now. The truth is, Claude wants Dimitri inside him - _needs_ it, even as Dimitri pushes further in, and how can there be _more_ , how can Claude take anymore? He feels so full already, Dimitri’s cock stretching him wider than he’s ever been before, filling him up in a way he’s never felt.

Then Dimitri grasps his hips and thrusts, seating himself fully inside Claude, and Claude can’t hold back his cry. It’s too much, too good, he can’t think anymore. All he wants is for Dimitri to fuck him, move inside him, own him completely.

“ _Please,_ ” he says, because that seems to be the only word he’s capable of forming right now. 

“I was watching you,” Dimitri says, as he pulls out partway. “I was watching you fight. You fight like it’s a dance, you move like it’s easy. I knew I had to have you then.” He thrusts back into Claude, still slow but not as slow as the first time, burying himself within Claude. His voice is raw and hungry, and Claude remembers looking at him and thinking it was battle lust, he wasn’t himself, but he’s not so sure now - and that thought makes him bite back a moan, the thought that Dimitri was thinking of him like this, that he wants this, Claude on his hands and knees, taking his cock.

Dimitri pulls out of him again, thrusts back in, and Claude trembles with the force of it, his arms going weak. He can’t hold himself up anymore, he has to lower himself down, arms braced against the ground. It’s not really comfortable, he wishes briefly they were in a bed, but then Dimitri moves inside him again.

This new angle makes his cock slide against that spot inside Claude, drawing another cry from him. He shudders at the intensity of it, the pleasure he can’t control, Dimitri choosing the pace and angle, his fingers digging into Claude’s hips. He doesn’t fuck Claude hard, but he’s ruthless, seeming to go deeper with each thrust.

All Claude can do is cling to his scattered thoughts and brace himself against Dimitri’s thrusts. He’s crying out each time now, broken little wails as the pleasure spikes through him, and Dimitri likes it, he’s telling Claude that Claude is so tight and hot, that he’s taking it so well, that he _wants_ this, and Claude does, he wants it so badly - 

He cries out again, and he might have said Dimitri’s name this time but he’s not sure. He can’t tell, not through the wave of pleasure that crests over him. He comes hard, painting his stomach and the grass below them with his cum.

“You really do like this,” Dimitri says, and he sounds darkly satisfied, still hard within Claude. He only pauses for a moment as Claude shudders and moans beneath him, and then he begins to move again.

He’s taking his time still, pulling out of Claude and thrusting in again, slow and steady and determined. It’s too much, it is, but Claude doesn’t tell him to stop. He can’t, even though he’s oversensitive and every thrust hits his prostate and he can’t take it, he feels almost mindless with it.

But he wants it, fuck, he wants it - Dimitri - so much. Even like this, even when he doesn’t know if he can handle it for another moment.

So he doesn’t say _stop_ , he doesn’t say _no more_ , he doesn’t try to pull away. Dimitri speeds up, his hands on Claude’s hips now pulling Claude back into him with each thrust, going deeper as his breathing tightens. Claude’s cock is limp between his legs, but he can feel it twitch every time Dimitri hits that spot, can feel his body trying to respond.

By the time Dimitri shudders and fucks into him one last time, Claude is half-hard again, somehow.

Dimitri comes inside him, filling him, holding Claude there until he’s finished, but he doesn’t pull out. He bends down instead, covering Claude’s body with his own again, and kisses his shoulder. “You took that so well for me,” he says, and then his hand is between Claude’s legs, wrapping around his cock. “Hmm. Hard again. I like that.”

He pulls out of Claude then, inch by slow inch, and allows Claude to collapse onto the grass. Claude’s arms are weak, his body still recovering from Dimitri’s intensity, but he rolls onto his back. The sky above them is a clear blue, lovely to look at, but if course it’s Dimitri that his eyes go to.

Dimitri settles on the grass next to him, close, so close. His long body is pressed against Claude’s side, his big hand trailing up Claude’s thigh. His gaze is sharp, as blue as the sky above them.

“I liked watching you fight,” Dimitri says, “and I liked fighting. But I thought, in the back of my mind - what am I going to do if he gets hurt? You were out here because of me. Because I can’t stand being around your army sometimes, being around people who look at me like I’m a person. I have to go, I have to get away from it, and you always follow.”

He seems more clear-headed now, but no less intent. His hand slides around Claude’s half-hard cock, and Claude, embarrassingly, immediately gets harder because of it.

“If you’re here because of me, then it’s my job to protect you. You didn’t need my protection - you fight so well - but even so.” Dimitri begins to stroke Claude then, lazily, his gaze still intent on Claude’s face. It still feels like almost too much, like more sensation than he can handle, but Claude finds himself responding to it anyway, until he’s hard and gasping beneath Dimitri’s attention.

“But look at you. Strong enough to kill those men, strong enough to take my cock, and you’re alive. You’re - you’re a survivor.” And then Dimitri falls silent, and he presses his mouth to Claude’s neck. His shoulders, his collarbone, down his chest. He leaves open-mouthed kisses that quickly turn to bites, and Claude finds himself gasping again. He was trying to think, trying to take in what Dimitri was saying, understand what it meant - but now all he can do is moan while Dimitri sinks bite marks into his flesh.

They’ll be there tomorrow, and for days afterward, marks of where Dimitri has been. He can’t seem to be bothered by that, either.

Dimitri slides downward, settling between Claude’s legs. The first thing he does, of course, is mark Claude’s thighs, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh there, sucking and nipping until they’re red and Claude is writhing beneath him. Then he takes Claude into his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate, not for a moment, as if he wants this more than anything, as if he’s eager to taste Claude.

Claude knows he won’t last long. How can he? He’s already come once, and his body may want more but he can also barely _take_ anymore. Especially when Dimitri swallows him down, takes him fully, down to the root. His mouth is nothing but slick hot pleasure, his tongue at work on Claude’s cock, bringing him to the brink of pleasure before he can make any effort to control himself.

His hands dig into the earth, because he can do nothing else, and his hips arch, plunging him deeper into that wet heat. Dimitri takes him easily, swallows around him, and then Claude is coming, crying out again as he does so, the world around them going white.

He comes back to himself sometime later, dizzy and spent. He’s never been with anyone like this before, it’s never been so overwhelming. He feels like he’s lost control of his thoughts, his body, everything - and the strangest thing, the most disturbing thing, is that he doesn’t mind it. He _likes_ it.

Claude has spent so many years observing people, finding what buttons to press, keeping them at a distance while making them feel known. He’s spent so many years in control, sometimes barely managing it but still somehow making it happen. And now, here with Dimitri, it’s all gone. It’s just the two of them, and their pleasure, and it all means something but he’s come twice already and he doesn’t seem to know how to make sense of it.

But it’s not over yet. Claude realizes that when Dimitri hovers above him, bending down to take his mouth in a hungry kiss, a kiss that Claude can taste himself in. He presses Claude’s thighs apart with one strong hand. He’s hard again, the head of his cock sliding against Claude’s thigh.

“I can’t,” Claude says, and his voice is raw. He’s cried out, he’s called out Dimitri’s name, his voice is shot and he almost wants to wince at the way it sounds. But Dimitri doesn’t seem to care.

“You can,” he says, and he slips his hand between Claude’s thighs, pressing a finger into him. He’s still loose from earlier and slick from the oil and Dimitri’s cum, so it slides in easily, and Claude shivers with it. He could protest again, he probably should, but -

He wants Dimitri. He wants Dimitri to use him like this.

He spreads his legs, a silent assent, a silent encouragement, and Dimitri settles between them. He doesn’t need to waste any time preparing Claude this time. He’s hard, and he’s ready, and so he slides an arm under Claude’s knee, spreads him wider, and then he’s pressing in.

He pushes into Claude much more easily this time. Claude’s body welcomes him, accepting the thickness of him, and once again he feels - full. He feels _good_. He thinks, in that moment, that if he spent the rest of his life as Dimitri’s fucktoy he wouldn’t mind it at all.

Dimitri’s cock presses into his prostate, and Claude’s own cock twitches, he feels the pleasure spark through him, but his body can’t manage more than that. He’s too spent, too limp, and it’s too much. But he can take Dimitri, and he does, body opening to him. Dimitri presses in until he’s fully seated in Claude, looking down on him, eye sharp and hungry, and then he begins to move.

The first time, Dimitri had gone slow, drawing it out, making Claude ache for it. This time, he fucks Claude hard, slamming into him with each thrust, using him with no remorse or hesitation. Claude can do nothing but take it, _wants_ to do nothing but take it. He’s captivated by Dimitri above him, the intent way he watches Claude, the harsh grip of his hands holding Claude just at the angle he wants him.

He can’t focus on anything else, not really. It’s all too much, it feels like his brain has shorted out with the pleasure of it all. Each thrust sends more pleasure rocking through him, his overstimulated body unable to rise to the occasion but _wanting_ to. Dimitri is rough with him this time, now that he knows Claude can take it, and Claude swims in the intensity of it all.

Dimitri fucks into him, and Claude’s body arches, and he thinks he comes again but there’s nothing left within him to give, only the weakest spurt of cum onto his stomach. Dimitri sees it, sees the mindlessness of the pleasure Claude is giving him, and he growls in satisfaction.

He comes deep inside Claude, in short stuttering bursts, the warmth of it filling him again. This time when Dimitri pulls out, Claude can feel a wetness between his thighs - Dimitri’s cum dripping out of him, too full and too used to leave him anything but filthy with it. He’s covered in dirt and cum, his own and Dimitri’s, and even still a bit of blood from their battle.

He must be a sight to see. He can’t seem to find it in himself to care - or to think, or to move.

“We should go back,” Dimitri says eventually, and Claude knows this is true, but he’s not entirely sure he can stand. Or walk. Dimitri seems to realize that almost immediately, and he helps Claude up, lifting him easily. Now that his lust is spent, Claude thinks there’s something almost remorseful in his eyes, but he frankly does not have the ability to try to dissect what it means.

It’s not often that Claude is weary enough - used enough, worn out enough - that his brain turns off.

Honestly, it’s kind of nice.

He’s not quite sure how he gets dressed again, or how they get back to camp. He thinks Dimitri carried him most of the way - he remembers slipping into sleep, his head pressed against Dimitri’s neck, and it seems a bit embarrassing until he remembers that they _had_ just fucked so hard Claude can barely stand up.

When he comes back to himself, really comes back to himself, they’re at the camp. He’s in his tent. He would be worried about what his soldiers might think, what his Golden Deer might think, but if he remembers right he managed to stumble in seeming reasonably together, and make some kind of excuse that got him back to his tent.

He’s just lucky they didn’t run into Hilda, or someone else who might have realized something was off.

When he sits up and looks around, he sees Dimitri.

The man is sitting on the floor next to his bedroll. He straightens when he sees Claude is awake, but then hesitates, as if he isn’t sure what to say. Finally, he ventures, “are you… all right?”

“Sore,” Claude says, because he doubts he’ll be able to sit a wyvern for at least a few days. Dimitri’s face drops.

“I’m… sorry,” he says. “I was… I lost myself.” He looks up at Claude, and he does look lost. Claude remembers the lust in his eyes, how certain he’d seemed of what he wanted. How it had shattered all of Claude’s defenses, prompted him to go along with it despite knowing better.

“Do you regret it?” Claude says, and he says it lightly, to conceal how important the question is. How much he _needs_ the answer, needs to know that he didn’t do something terrible, something deeply selfish.

He wanted Dimitri. He wants Dimitri now. He has for a long time.

“No,” Dimitri says, and the answer is quick, almost startled. Something inside Claude, knotted and tight, begins to release. “But I was - not gentle. Or thoughtful. I, um -” he trails off, his cheeks flushed.

“You used me,” Claude says, and he lets himself smile. “You know I’m the leader of the Leicester Alliance, and not your cocksleeve, right?”

Dimitri does not know what to say to that. His eyes are wide, alarmed. He can be as fierce as a beast, as terrifying as one of his lions, steeped in madness. And yet, at times, the boy he once was shines through.

How can Claude do anything but want a man like that?

“I liked it,” Claude says, because it’s true. Because he has never been with anyone like that, someone so overwhelming, so all-encompassing, that even he cannot think. Because he’s wanted Dimitri for so long, and thought it was impossible. Because, despite the weariness in his body, the ache between his legs - he wants that again.

Dimitri stares at him, and something sparks within the depths of that blue eye, something hungry. Something Claude has seen before. “What do you mean?” He sounds guarded, uncertain. Claude shrugs.

“I mean,” Claude says, and he meets Dimitri’s eyes, and he feels like he can say anything with a smile, “sometimes I need a break from being the leader of the Leicester Alliance.” He thinks of Dimitri saying _It’s my job to protect you_ , Dimitri fighting at his side, Dimitri wanting him afterwards. He doesn’t know what it means, he’s too weary to figure it out, but - 

But he knows what he wants, even if it may be terribly selfish of him.

Dimitri smiles, a fierce little thing, enough to frighten anyone but Claude. Claude likes it. “Then I think, from time to time, I can find another use for you.”

Claude doesn’t know if this is a good idea. In fact, he’s almost sure it isn’t. But Dimitri’s hands on him, the thoughts that plague him falling away under Dimitri’s attention until all he can think about is _Dimitri_ , the need they felt, the slick mess still inside him - even if it isn’t a good idea, it’ll be worth the ride.

And Claude cannot seem to want anything else.


End file.
